Get Rid of It

I try to scrub away
my guilt,
my hatred,
my depression,
with bleach,
with formaldehyde,
with chemicals burning my skin,
turning it pink,
turning the record over,
turning me into something new,
a strange being
staring back at me,
staring me down,
staring into my depths,
taking me to a new form,
taking all I have,
taking it for granted,
as I wash the stains of decades,
wash them down the drain,
wash it all away.